Terror of the Red Mask
by SAmaster01
Summary: A century ago, a vicious killer haunted the streets of Vale, preying on the innocent, existing only in whispers and shadows. Detective Augustin, famed for solving the Amontillado Case, has been sent to hunt them down.
1. Prologue

It seemed the bright and cheery sunlight of Vale had vanished that day. It made the dank and dark streets the two officers, Detective and Constable, were walking seem even that more foreboding, the mud on the streets seemed grungier, the signs on the street more sinister, and the people on the streets more callous.

Still, this did not deter them as they found their destination. A small door wedged between two storefronts, a Butcher, and a Candlestick Makers. The door was unlocked, and so the two entered, finding a small unmanned desk littered and unorganized, documents strewn across any available surface, in a chilly room at the end of a long corridor.

They rung the bell there, and were greeted by a scrawny youth in a disheveled state, with bags under his eyes. Nevertheless, he smiled as he greeted the two. They explained they were on an investigation, and wanted to ask one of their tenants a few questions. The attendant understood, and gave them the key and directions they needed as soon as he could fish them out from beneath all the chaos that had accumulated.

They ascended up several flights of steps, going ever higher, the light the skylight allowed in growing stronger, until they found the door they were looking for. Black, with its bronze numbers askew on the nails that held them tight.

They knocked once to see if the tenant would open for them. They knocked twice, to see if the tenant was taking his time, or perhaps hadn't heard their first attempt. After knocking a third time, the Detective took the key, and opened the door, and let himself and the Constable in.

What greeted them were the smells of decay, musk, and to those who were familiar to it, those of a brewery.

"Hello? Is the current tenant here?" The Detective called out, using his hat to dispel some of the obnoxious vapors that were affronting him. "This is the Constabulary. We have need to question you as per an ongoing investigation."

Only the silence and the sound of faint raindrops on the windows replied.

They spread out, looking for the occupant. The walls were coated in a dreary peeling wallpaper, composed of dark striped colors, a handful of pictures adorning them. The surfaces of the tables and cabinets were littered with dust, bottles, and opened books, left in disarray to their fates.

In the corner a large rifle had been propped against the wall, seeming the only area in the abode that was well-taken care of.

The Constable made a startled sound, and so the Detective made his way to the room they were occupying. On the floor spread eagle was the man they were searching for, his black coat draped over him, and his mess of wild hair obscuring his face.

"Is he-?" The Constable left the question unasked.

The Detective poked the prone man with his cane, getting a few moans in response. "Passed out." He told the Constable. "Well this won't do. Excuse me a moment." The Detective made his way to the windows where the curtains lay blocking the light of day. With no sense of ceremony, he opened them wide letting in the harsh light of the grey skies outside illuminating particles of dust that circulated in the air. The man on the floor cringed at this.

"Rise and shine there. We only have some questions that we want to ask, and then we will leave you to your debauchery."

"What are you doing in my house?" The man moaned into the carpet of his floor.

"We are the Constabulary." The Detective answered. "My name is Claude A. Augustin. I'm a detective. We are here on an investigation."

"And what do you want with me?" The man moaned.

The Detective looked at his surroundings, noting the disheveled state of… well everything. He had of course heard that this was the state the man had condemned himself too. But for his standing, the Detective couldn't help but feel disappointed that he had fallen so low. "Constable, if you could help me move this man to a seat?" The two of them grabbed the mans arms, and placed him in the emptiest seat they could. The man sat in a slump, doing his best to remain in his state as close to unconsciousness as one could get. "Good, now see if you can find a chair for us to rest in would you?"

"Yes sir."

"Now then, you were asking what we wanted." The Detective said, getting back on track. "You see there's been a string of murders recently." The Detective retrieved a photograph from his pocket, and handed it to the man, who looked at it bleary-eyed. "That poor woman there is the latest victim. We believe that a serial killer is at work."

"You don't think I did it?" The man said, handing back the picture.

The detective took another glance at the apartment he was in, and shook his head. "No. The reason we came is that we believe that the killer is responsible for some unsolved deaths from some years ago. One of these being the death of your younger sister, which I believe you did some investigations on yourself."

That sobered the man. He seemed to freeze and retract into himself, the ruddy color of his face paling. His eyes narrowed, and seemed suffused with many a negative emotions. Hate. Sorrow. Rage. He shifted his position, so that he could better meet the detective's eye.

"I'll answer any question you want to ask." The man said, his voice seething with his barely contained emotions.

The Detective felt a slight smile. There was the man he had been hoping to meet. There was the man who once prided himself amongst the Hunters of Vale. There was Alan E. Polter.


	2. Detective Augustin starts his day

Claude A. Augustin was the head detective for the Vale Constabulary. A month after having solved the Amontillado case, a case that was heralded in newspapers in each of the Four Kingdoms cementing Detective Augustins name in the view of the public eye, the detective got up to make his way to work, as his did every day that he could help it.

His schedule began waking fifteen minutes after sunrise. He would rise from his bed and walk four paces to the bathroom, where he would bath for twenty minutes. Once finished, he would dry himself, inspect himself in the mirror, comb his waning hair, thoroughly brush his teeth, and dress himself in the clothes he had chosen for himself the day before, a process that took him ten minutes.

From there Augustin would march himself to the kitchen, accompanied by his faithful pet Mr. Truffles, who dutifully awaited him by the bathroom door. Once in the kitchen he would prepare breakfast for himself and Mr. Truffles, sometimes it was toast, sometimes it was eggs, sometime it was bacon, sometimes it was baked potatoes. For Mr. Truffles, it was always a bowl of dog-food and some water, unless it was sunday, in which case he received a slab of cooked meat.

Breakfast lasted for a half-hour, while Augustin looked over that morning's paper. After breakfast, Augustin would leave his apartment grabbing his cane on the way out, Mr. Truffles would wait for the dog-walker that had been hired to take him out until his master returned.

Detective Augustin would make for the Constabulary, taking the tram that stopped three blocks from where he lived, taking the paper with him that he would read both while he waited for the tram, and while he was on it, awaiting his destination. The travel time to the Constabulary from his home was always fifteen minutes, provided the trams were running as they should.

Lastly the good Detective would arrive at his place of work, he would march through the courtyard inside the building, almost always a blur with some activity to do, even at that early morning, with some constable needed to do something somewhere in the city. Augustin would work his way through the ruckus, until he was at his desk, in a small area cordoned off from the rest of the station, in a corner to the back, so that he may work in peace. He sat down, placing his cane next to the wall and his hat on his desk, and he checked his pocket-watch to see that it had taken him five minutes to get from his tram stop to his desk, though he had arrived on time with no delays.

Finally at work, Detective Augustin made the minute adjustments he did everyday so that it was in order, so that he might begin his work. Just as he made sure every pen had been accounted for, someone broke his concentration by dropping a manilla file right in his field of view.

The Detective looked up to see a young Constable peering down on him.

"Good morning." The Detective greeted.

"Greetings sir." The Constable said. "You'll want to look at that, sir."

Augustin being a detective, noted several things in that small sentence. The first sentence was uneasy, unsure. She was likely new here, and was unsure how to deal with a senior detective such as himself. The second sentence; A seriousness, a grimness to her words. She avoided directly stating what the matter was, meaning it was either an uncomfortable matter, or it was so severe as to be considered unspeakable.

With that conclusion, Augustin simply turned to the file, and opened it. Instantly he was greeted by a grotesque daguerreotype of a misshapen corpse.

"We had found her in the middle of the night." Said the Constable, rubbing her nose, and refusing to look directly at the picture, clearly unnerved by it.

"So this is to be my next case then." Augustin concluded, moving the picture to the other side, and skimming the case notes.

The young Constable nodded. "I'm to escort you to where we found her."

Augustin got up from his seat, grabbing his hat and his cane. "Lead the way."

They took a carriage to the sight where the body had been found. A dingy back alley that didn't let the golden rays of the morning sun illuminate its darkness. It was behind broken crates and other detritus. Other Constables were there, to ward off the public, investigate, and take pictures of the crime-scene. They made way for their head detective.

"The victim had multiple stab wounds." Explained one of the Constables, who seemed to have been investigating the longest. "By the amount of blood that we've found, we suspect the murder took place elsewhere, and the body was dumped here. Murder was recent, judging by lack of decay."

"That as much information as you have?" Augustin asked.

"Yes."

"Thank you then." The Detective made his way closer to the body to examine it.

It was a young woman. Or rather it used to be a young woman. The poor things body was broken and twisted, not only where there stab wounds, but slashes and gashes, chunks of flesh carved off. The hair was soaking in a dirty puddle, dirt clung to the scalp. The dress was ripped and torn and cut, covered in blood and gore. He reached out to a rare undamaged piece of skin on the body and found it cold to the touch.

"What do you think happened Sir?" Said the young Constable who had escorted him, her eyes unable to tear away from the body.

"Well-" The Detective said, standing up. "As the other Constable said, the murder did not take place here. Obviously meaning the body was moved here. The body is not in decay, when things rot, the process tend to warm the carcass, the body is as cold as the pavement, and there are no other signs of decay. So clearly it did not take us long to find the murder. Does that tell you anything?"

"The killer wasn't being careful?" She reached.

"Yes. And no." The Detective said. "Had the killer been careless, this would have been the scene of the murder, the weapon used to cut the body would be lain somewhere here. But it is not. Some degree of caution was taken. But yet some measure of it was not. Now then, as to her state of dress, we can see that the victim has, or had, what seems a very expensive dress. Embroidered in it are silver buttons, still there. This means that the killer was either not interested in wealth. And given the violent death of the victim, they quite obviously did not kidnap the victim, which would have been the most assured means of accumulating wealth from the victim. If it had been a kidnaping attempt gone wrong, the death would likely not have been so violent."

"Why do you think it might have been a kidnapping gone wrong?" The Constable asked.

"I don't. I'm simply ruling out possibilities." Augustin explained. "Not every murder is made out of pure spite and malice. Given the excessive damage of the body however… with so many wounds it's difficult to ascertain what is exactly the cause of death. We can determine the killer was being overenthusiastic." The Constable gave him a dubious look, so he went on. "Either the victim died from the first wound that was dealt, in which case the killer continued to mutilate the body, or the victim was mutilated first and then killed. Either way I think we can ascertain this death was in spite and malice."

"She's… dressed rather well." The Constable said.

"Indeed!" The Detective enthused. "The sheer cost of the fabric alone narrows down the possible identities of the victim greatly. Which would be very helpful if not for the fact the killer neglected to remove the victims insignia ring."

"Ring?"

"Yes, right here on the index finger." The Detective pointed to the body's hand, which had a silver ring still adorning it. "The victim was either from a prominent family in Vale, or otherwise associated with them. Which will make the identification tremendously easy, once we identify the family associated with that seal."

"Is that all then?" The Constable asked, having expected more.

"One more thing." Augustin said. "I like to surmise our conclusions, and see if we can go anywhere from there. Our killer targeted this woman, no wedding band, and by the look of the body we can surmise she was a young unmarried woman, of a prominent family. Now our killer disregarded the victims prominent status for some reason. We can't know this for sure until we verify with the family, but I have a hunch that considering we can place the death as recent, most likely within last night, that the family the victim belongs to is currently unaware of the deceased' status. Once our killer had the victim, the killer enthusiastically murdered them, in a location that is not here. They specifically carved up the bodies face, yet ignored the signet ring that will lead us to the victim's identity, likewise ignoring to take any other valuables on the body, meaning they weren't in desperate need of money. They then moved the body from the scene of the crime, here, where it was found early this morning by Constables on their patrol."

"...And?" The young Constable asked.

"That's it." Detective Augustin replied. "It's all we can safely surmise at this point. We have very little to go on at this point. We'll need to follow up on some leads for more information. Come, we should head back to the Constabulary, hopefully the Coroner might be able to provide us with more information."


	3. The investigation begins

The Ring had the symbol of two crescent moons, one inside the shadow of the other, made in gold overlay. After a brief amount of cross-checking it was decided that the victim was a member of the prestigious Arc Family, a Family whose name was out of the public eye's, but had been made on the foundation of a legacy of Hero's, its members were counted in the Night Watchman, the Militia, the Hunters, even one or two members had served in the Constabulary.

Detective Augustin took a carriage to their manor, the young Constable was to accompany him, in Castle Heights. Unfortunately the trams hadn't extended themselves to that area yet, unfortunately being mostly in the Commercial District.

Deciding that sitting in silence in wait of their destination was proving useless, Augustin made conversation. "You were disappointed in me."

"Excuse me?" The young Constable asked.

"Back at the crime scene." The Detective elaborated. "You were disappointed I hadn't surmised more than what seemed obvious. You were expecting more from the man who broke the Amontillado case, the man whose name was in all the papers from here to Atlas."

The young Constable moved to dispute the Detective's statement, but faltered under his knowing look.

"I suppose you had a rather romanticized view of Detectives, and were looking forward to see such a 'modern legend' at work in person."

"Apologies sir." The Constable said, pulling her helmet low so as to avoid eye-contact.

"No worries. Its not your fault. We live in a society that glorifies men into things they are not." Augustin elaborated. "Some days I almost wish I… hadn't solved the Amontillado case."

"I guess people never really stop to think about the names they hear in the papers." The Constable said.

"I find people rarely stop to do anything, let alone something as tiring as thinking." Augustin said with some humor.

The carriage came to a stop. "We've reached your destination." Said the carriage driver. The Detective and Constable stepped out onto the property just outside of the Arc Manor. The area was standard for the upper-class neighborhood, an expansive, well-maintained garden enclosed by a high wall enclosed with a barred gate, allowing one to see the splendor, and not touch it.

A single guard waited at his post, and so the two approached him. "Good Morning sir!" Detective Augustin greeted. "I'm the head Detective of the Constabulary." The Constable flashed the guard the pommel of her club with its official seal. "We've some news to bring to the Arc Family."

The guard nodded, he unlocked the gate for the two and led them to the front of the manor without a word. The garden was quiet in the bright morning sun, only a few Faunus workers around to do some weeding. The guard opened the heavy engraved wooden doors that served as the front entrance, and left them to the Butler awaiting them before returning to his post. Augustin introduced them, and the Constable once again flashed the seal of her club. The Butler nodded, and left to find the family. He returned after a few minutes, and led them to the living room where some of the Arc Family members were awaiting.

Three were assembled. The Matriarch and Patriarch of the Family sat on a flower embroidered sofa across from the fireplace, dressed in their finery, standing to the side was a woman of statuesque beauty, dressed in the prim uniform of a Night Watchmen, her golden silken hair held in a tight bun with only one lock draping along the side of her face.

"Mr. Arc, Mrs. Arc." The Detective greeted. "May we sit down?"

"Of course." Mr. Arc nodded, gesturing to some of the armchairs that were in the room.

"Thank you." The Detective and the Constable each occupied a seat before addressing the family. "Is this your entire family?"

Mr. Arc shook his head. "Many of our children are not currently staying at the Manor. Our Daughter here is visiting."

The Detective nodded in understanding. "Do you know if anyone in your family is missing? There whereabouts unknown?"

The parents looked at each other for a moment. "Our youngest daughter." Mrs. Arc said, worry in her voice. "She left last night to see a friend. She hasn't returned yet. Has something happened?"

The Detective nodded again, this time solemnly. "We've found a murder victim." The mood of the family noticeably chilled. "A young woman by the looks of her. Blonde hair, blue eyes.. She was wearing a silver signet ring with your family crest in gold."

The family reeled at this revelation. The daughter stepped forward to speak. "Are you sure its her? Do you have pictures!?"

"We came here to ascertain that." Augustin explained. "The victim was heavily mutilated, the only real identifier we had was her ring."

"That is my little sister you are talking about!" The young Ms. Arc roared. "She was a person!"

"Settle down child!" Mr. Arc told his daughter. "I apologize Detective. We… were unprepared for this."

"I understand." Augustin told them. "Is there anything you can tell us that might aid us in our investigation?"

Mr. and Mrs. Arc thought to themselves while the young Ms. Arc boiled in silent fury. "We… had been having arguments with our youngest daughter." Mrs. Arc confessed. "Thats why we brought her sister to visit, to hopefully straighten things out between us. It was over small things, the way she spoke, acted, which paths in life she wanted to take. She… decided to leave the manor sometime in the afternoon, to visit her friend, Georgina Rappaccini. Her father owns the Virtuoso collection."

"Do you know the route she would take to visit her?"

"I do." The young Miss Arc said. "I escorted her there once. I'll take you there myself."

"Thank you." Detective Augustin said, getting up from his seat. "We will still need you and your family to stop by the Constabulary however, to make certain the identity of the victim."

"I will go there with you." Young Ms. Arc said. "The sooner the better."


	4. Meeting with Georgina Rappaccini

Ms. Arc escorted them from the manor, showing them the route her sister would have taken the night prior. Ms. Arc explained she would not have taken a carriage, she had a dis-fondness for horses, and would walk down from Castle Heights to the nearest tram station. Castle Heights being such a wealthy community with many families employing private guards, the walk seemed by all measures very safe.

The tram ride took eight stops until they were many neighborhoods away, in another well off district. Castle Heights was situated at the top of a hill, making every view scenic, one could spy the many rooftops, spire, and smokestacks of Vale from near any window-sill, almost all the way to the bay. It was lined by manors walled off from one another, with barred gates allowing one a peak at the extravagantly maintained gardens, the road was wide and open, and there many posts for private guards to standing waiting for hours at attention. The entire area seemed to be a bastion of simpler, older times.

Bullion Row, however, was quite a contrast, standing in the heart of the Commercial district, it was the height of modernity, the trams ran through its center, gas-lamps lined the sidewalks, displays of electrical wonder were housed on its store-fronts, and telephone wires criss-crossed its sky. The buildings were tall and crowded together like a great crowd gathering around, though no less magnificent or glorious.

Having gotten off their stop, Ms. Arc took them away from the crowded store-fronts, and eager masses of shoppers, towards the residence of Georgina Rappaccini. On Padua street, an old Manse, incorporated into the buildings around it. A two tiered building made of grey stone.

Ms. Arc wasted no time in ringing the bell to summon the inhabitants. The door slowly creaked open and they were greeted by a young woman.

"Georgina, did my sister come to see you last night?" Ms. Arc asked the young woman.

"Janet?" The young girl asked. "Why, um, yes. She should have returned last night. Has something happened?"

"Excuse me Miss." Detective Augustin said coming into view. "We are conducting an investigation."

"Janet? What's happening?" The young girl asked again.

Ms. Arc sighed. "They-" Ms. Arc hesitated, struggling to let the words out of her lungs. "-someone killed her Georgina."

"No!" She cried in horror. "Is this true sir?"

"I'm afraid it is." Augustin said. "I'm with the constabulary. We haven't had the family identify the body quite yet, but we found a signet ring with the Arc family crest on it, we're fairly certain that your friend was the victim of a murder."

"This- this can't be." The girl was reeling with shock.

"May we enter?" The detective asked.

"Y-Yes sirs. Please, do come on in." The girl said, opening the door to the old manse.

The detective, constable and Ms. Arc made followed the young woman, who escorted them to the living room so they may sit. The manse was home to all kinds of relics hung up and displayed in every corner, its cool blue wallpaper muting the light that came streaming in through the windows.

"Please sirs. Tell me everything. From the beginning." The young woman said, taking her own seat, looking at them with determined eyes.

Augustin surveyed his surroundings briefly before resting on the young woman. "Of course Ms.?"

"Rappaccini. Georgina Rappaccini." She replied. She wore a baby-blue dress, rather simple compared to many girls of her age and class, her dainty hands were covered in prim white gloves, and she had a pink ribbon that managed her short curls of straw-colored brunette hair. Understandably she was rather nervous, her breathing was shallow, and her pale green eyes darted from person to person, almost but not quite shaking in fear. Her complexion was bright and rosy, her nose was small and round, just as her face was, almost doll-like in its innocence, the only thing marring her beauty was a small birthmark on her right cheek, though many could easily consider that it instead enhanced her youthly visage.

"Ms. Rappaccini." Augustin continued. "We found a body in an alley on the other side of the city. On it was as I stated previously a signet ring with the Arc family crest on it. We then went to the Arc's family residence to ask about any missing persons. We were informed that their youngest daughter has not yet returned since coming to visit you yesterday evening. We will need to rely on you for more information after that."

Georgina seemed to brace herself for the words she would tell the detective. Ms. Arc rested her hand on her shoulder to reassure her.

"She had come late in the afternoon. I think she took the same route she typically does to get here. She told me she had gotten in a row with her family." Ms. Arc's face flashed with regret at that. "We spent a few hours here, just talking. I tried to console her. I didn't pay attention to when it was exactly she left."

"Was there anyone else here at that time? Do you know anyone else your friend may have spoken to?"

Georgina shook her head. "No. I had given the servants the day off so that we could speak in private, and my father has been busy attending the Collection for days now."

Augustin nodded. "Do you know anything that might help us catch whoever is responsible?"

Georgina seemed to search her mind for an answer. "When she left, I wanted to walk with her, at least part-way, until she reached the tram station."

"And you didn't see any suspicious activity at all? Anything that might help us in our case?"

Georgina shook her head. "No."

Augustin nodded. He rose to his feet, and bowed his head. "Thank you for your cooperation Ms. Rappaccini." The Constable rose with him, and they headed for the door.

"Wait! Sirs, if I might ask, do you have any leads on the killer?" Georgina asked desperately.

The detective looked into her pleading eyes, and so he answered her based on what hunches he had. "We have only a little. The killer is a very violent person. They did not care for wealth. Nor do they care for subtlety. Don't worry though, we will catch him soon."

"Don't you worry Georgina." Ms. Arc said to the young woman who had survived her friend. "I swear on my life that I will find the person responsible for what has happened. And I will ensure they suffer." Ms. Arc left to join the constable and the detective.

They were out the door, and onto the street before Georgina ran after them trying to flag them down. "Detective! Detective!" She cried out almost manic.

"Yes Ms. Rappaccini?"

"I-I remembered something! It didn't seem important at the time, but looking back on it, well it did seem awfully suspicious." Georgina exclaimed. "While we were walking together, I thought I saw a man in the shadows."

"A man?" Augustin asked.

"Yes. He was- rather thin- he didn't seem to be a very large man. He was, he was dressed in some dark material, it looked like he had been following us, but I thought that it might have been my imagination."

"Is that all you can tell us?" Augustin asked.

"I… I think he… he may have been wearing a red mask. Sorry, it's… all I can remember for now." Georgina said. "But I promise you, when I next think of something, I will come by the Constabulary."

"Thank you Ms. Rappaccini." The detective said.


	5. Identifying the Body

Following their visit at the old manse, the three of them returned to the Constabulary.

Ms. Arc needed to identify the body.

The journey there was quiet and somber. Ms. Arc seemed to be projecting a strong facade of control and cold determination. But Detective Augustin could see past that. She was broiling with anger. Trembling in grief. Scrambling for direction. However she did a most admirable job of keeping it hidden to the outside world. The young constable meanwhile kept quiet likewise until they returned.

They made their way from the courtyard into the entrance hall of the Constabulary, and from there to the coroner's quarters. The coroner directed them to the body lying on the table, a thick sheet covering it. Ms. Arc stared for a solid minute before giving the nod to the Coroner to remove the sheet, exposing the body to her.

Ms. Arc moved almost imperceptibly at its sight. Nothing more than a slight shiver and a stiffening of the muscles. Her mouth became slack before she spoke.

"Thats her." Ms. Arc told them. "Thats my sister." The coroner moved to put the sheet back on, but Ms. Arc stopped him. "No. Tell me how it happened."

"Miss I-" The coroner protested.

"I've seen men torn alive by Grimm on the borders." Ms. Arc told him, giving the coroner an icy stare. "I can handle it. Now tell me how my sister died."

The coroner sighed, giving a glance to the detective and constable before explaining his findings. "The victim suffered multiple stabbings and mutilations while alive. They died upon being stabbed in the chest area, again several times within a short time span. Afterwards the body was dragged and thrown in the alley. The weapon used was a single knife that had a sharpened edge, possibly an ordinary kitchen knife, there was only one sharp edge on the blade, no less than four inches long, possibly five inches or longer. The victim was restrained while they had been attacked. That is as much as I can determine at this point."

Augustin nodded. Ms. Arc remained perfectly still, a storm was visible just behind her eyes. She eventually turned to the detective. "What are you going to do now?"

"Now?" The detective asked. "Well we have a tentative murder weapon. And a possible profile to go on. We do have a time-frame however, from the time after the victim left Ms. Rappaccini's, which helps narrow down the locations we will have to canvas."

"That doesn't tell me what we are going to do." Ms. Arc pressed.

"We in the constabulary will do everything that is in our power to catch this killer." Detective Augustin answered. "You however Ms. Arc should return to your family. Give them the news. And we will inform you with every new development."

"That. Isn't. Good enough." Ms. Arc said with clenched teeth. "I am a Captain of the Night Watchmen. Don't think I need protecting detective."

The detective sighed. "Be that as it may, this is an investigation best left to the Constabulary. I know you have good intentions-"

"Damn intentions!" Ms. Arc roared. "I am finding this killer! You can do as you like, but I will find the person responsible for this, and ensure they suffer!" The cyclone of emotions she had been withholding were let out all at once in that instant. Before another word could be spoken, she left in awhirl, smashing through the doors that stood between her and the exit.

The detective sighed again, feeling somewhat exposed.

"What should we do Detective?" The young constable asked.

"We… should do as I said. We will canvas the neighborhoods on the victims path, and look for more information to go on. Then we will retire for the night, and begin again in the morning. Understood?"

"Understood." She said.


	6. Struck Again

They did indeed canvas the route Ms. Rappaccini outlined to the Detective, as well as the surrounding area where the body was originally found. Unfortunately the Constabulary could not find any traces of the man described by Ms. Rappaccini. The trail went cold, and then dead, dead, dead.

The Arcs retrieved the body of their youngest daughter, and gave her a proper burial, the local newspapers ran a few articles on it.

A month passed for Detective Augustin. He woke up fifteen minutes after sunrise, and began his day, making his way to the Constabulary, where he'd make the minute adjustments to his desk in the corner like he did everyday before starting with work. He overlooked various case-files, an hour and a half into his day before a constable came up to him to distract him.

"Sir." He said.

"Yes?" He asked, keeping his eyes on his papers.

"Sir, we've found another body." He elaborated.

"You have?" Augustin asked.

"They believe it relates to the case you had overseen last month sir." He explained, producing another daguerreotype. Augustin looked it over and saw another broken body of a young woman. "She was found in the same vicinity as the previous victim.

Augustin puzzled that information, the cogs in his mind flaring into life. He leaned over to pick up his cane and his hat. "Lead the way."

The famous Detective found himself in another back-alley in a more dangerous part of the city, surrounded by worrying Constables. It was further into the day this time, so the sun did a better job of illuminating the scene, but the body was still hidden from its harsh gaze, leaned against a wall.

Augustin dismissed the constable, and sat about making his deductions.

This body seemed that of an woman older than the previous victim. Its blouse had been ripped open, and the many stab-wounds poured volumes of blood on the body's clothes. But most striking was how on the face, where the eyes should have been were instead gouged out, letting even more blood fall onto the corpses otherwise pristine face, mixing in with the mascara, and other make-ups that were there.

"Detective!" A voice called out for Augustin. Drawn out of his focus, he turned to see a young constable looking at him with a pleased expression on her face.

"Yes constable?" Augustin asked.

"Uh, sir, remember me?" She asked, disappointed that the detective clearly did not remember her. "I escorted you on another case last month?"

"Ah." Augustin said, recognition dawning on him. "I see."

"I was in the area here, so I was called in to help close off the area." She explained.

The detective nodded, going back to his deductions and observations.

"Have you come up with anything?" The young constable pestered him.

"Anything?"

"About the culprit? Is it the same man from before?"

"The killer from before?" Augustin asked. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, the victim is in the same general area. And she-" The young constable very briefly glanced at the corpse, obviously still discomforted by its sight. "-she's seems…"

"Mutilated?"

"Yes, in the same way." The young constable said hurriedly.

Augustin looked between the young constable and the corpse. "I've surmised a few things." He said, having decided to humor the woman. "I was thinking the same thing myself in fact. Not only because of the location and the violent nature of the death, but also because the victim shares the same general profile as the previous victim. Young, upper-class as indicated by the dress and expensive make-up, female." The young constable nodded, so Augustin continued. "Also we'd have to ask the mortician for verification, but it also seems that the victim was attacked with a similar nature, and with a similar weapon. And of course, as in the previous time, this victim was killed in another location, and deposited here, as evidenced by the many open wounds, and the lack of blood."

"So… what does that leave with us? Are we at the same place we were last month?"

"No." Augustin answered. "There are differences as well as similarities. And it's those differences that I'm interested in. For one, this body doesn't have as nearly as many cuts or wounds in as many areas as the last body did. See? Only in this chest area. That says that while the killer was still in a frenzy, what with the multiple redundant stab wounds, this kill was much more clean. But then there's the mutilation of the eyes. For what purpose does that serve? Was it a personal vendetta against those eyes perhaps?"

"You think that's what it is sir?"

"No, that would be absurd. I'm simply thinking aloud. No, this body lacks a ring. It lacks eyes. I think the killer is beginning to wisen up. Which will make him all the more dangerous. One more thing, this body wasn't simply dumped here in this alley. It was posed, leaning against this wall. The killer… I think he's begun to develop a taste for showing off."

"You think that she was left here like this for us?" The constable asked, chilled.

"Perhaps. Perhaps he left it as it is for himself? Gaining a morbid pride in this. "This man… he's gotten a taste for this kind of murder. We can't afford to let him roam the streets. After a display such as this… this mutilation isn't for some cathartic release. Its for the cold pleasure of doing the wicked and horrible. He's killed, and either by next month, or the month after that he'll kill again."

Augustin and the rest of the Constabulary did their best to hunt down this killer that preyed on young women. But the killer had hidden his tracks well. Nobody in the area reported seeing anything suspicious, at least not anything that turned up any useful leads. The coroner reported that Augustins suspicions were correct, the victim's wounds were consistent with the Arc case as he had expected.

Not one to sit idle however, Augustin began working from the comfort of his desk on a hunch.

The vile and wicked were creatures of habit you see. All men and women find comfort in routine, and nothing is more important while doing deplorable acts than comfort. So Augustin underwent an arduous task, he perused through the Constabulary archives for killings of a similar nature over the past several years, hoping that perhaps there was something in that history that could aid the present.

For the next week it consumed his schedule, going through file after file for something to grasp. He dismissed the cases that had a known killer linked to them, but that still took its own amount of time. After that he had to pour through each death of the young rich women that had happened in Vale. Some he could solve as simple accidents. Others failed to fit the killers motif as he had determined. The ones that seemed to fit he left in a pile until he had worked through each file. Once all that had been completed, he began the real work.

Even at that stage he was left with little to work with. It was difficult to point to any of the files he had found and pin them to his killer, at least at this point. He was ready to dismiss the whole thing until he found something. A young girl, not even a woman, killed and found bloody in the streets five years ago. A poor helpless little girl from a prominent family. Her body was found broken, bloody, and mutilated. Left in a pitiful darkened corner of the city, far from home.

The trail in the case file had gone cold, and the investigation was closed, but there were notes indicating that a family member had conducted their own research into the case, something that detective Augustin couldn't afford to overlook.

As he turned the page to get the name of the family member, he chuckled at what he saw. Detective Augustin, renowned for solving the Amontillado case, would be visiting another man who'd become a household name, Alan E. Polter, the man who named the Nevermore.


End file.
